


your eyes that find me here

by theoretically



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Pre-Epilogue, Self-Indulgent, a pynch Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoretically/pseuds/theoretically
Summary: The dust of a magical apocalypse settled around them. And snow began to fall.A Christmas story.





	your eyes that find me here

**Author's Note:**

> hello there, i had intended for this to be up before christmas but surprise surprise i grossly underestimated how long fic writing takes me. this isn't proofread so please let me know if there are any blatant errors. 
> 
> title from all that i want by the weepies (aka my mom's fav christmas song ever)  
> enjoy

Gansey’s heart stuttered awake again. Noah’s life flickered out of existence like a dying star. Ronan scrapped the black flecks of his own unmaking from his skin until it was raw and stinging. Henry cooked a real, honest-to-God dinner in the kitchen/laundry room/bathroom and made them all eat it. It wasn’t even that horrible. Adam retreated within himself, numbly horrified and achingly relieved. Blue flitted between the lot of them with tears in her eyes, afraid they’d disappear if she turned her head for too long. That night they all curled up against one another in Gansey's bed. Precariously piled under the duvet, a mass of tangled limbs and still erratic heartbeats. Perfectly slotted against each others edges like a jagged jigsaw puzzle. 

The dust of a magical apocalypse settled around them. And snow began to fall. 

Weeks after the world ended and restarted again, winter had fully arrived in Henrietta. Snow blanketed the earth in a thin and sparkling layer of new beginnings. It clung to tree branches and piled up on rooftops. It tangled itself in eyelashes and dusted hair and shoulders like icing sugar. I t covered over the holes that riddled their chests and provided a clean canvas to map out their next steps. It was like learning to breathe again; fresh, welcome and needed. 

Ronan trudged through long miserable school days for no other reason than to escape the smothering storm cloud of his grief, for at least a few hours a day. The monotony of Aglionby life after everything that they had gone through was jarring and distracting. The fluorescent lights were still too bright, his teachers still droned on about things that would never be relevant to Ronan’s life, his classmates were still obnoxious and grating, his uniform was still itchy and too tight. But at least he didn’t have to wallow in grief all alone at Monmouth, or the Barns. If he didn’t go to school for at least a few hours everyday, he was certain he would choke on his sorrow. 

So yes, Aglionby was still miserable, but it was a constant misery. It was almost grounding in its consistently dull days. Even when the world had crumbled around him, Aglionby had stayed annoyingly intact and unchanged. Between its walls, everything was the same.

But things weren’t the same. 

Now, Henry Cheng joined him, Gansey and Adam at lunch. Ronan supposed that Cheng’s involvement in The End of the Jesus Shitting World was probably a worthy cause for the solidification of his position within their ranks but that didn’t mean Ronan had to be happy about it. Now, Declan and Matthew stayed over Saturday night instead of driving up from D.C. Sunday morning for mass. Now, Ronan split his time between the Barns and Monmouth. And St Agnes. Because now, he had Adam. 

_ Adam.  _ Adam who was still achingly gorgeous. But who now held Ronan’s hand under the table at their booth at Nino’s. Adam who was still utterly devoted to his studies. But who now carved time out of his crammed schedule to spend time doing stupid shit with Ronan. Adam who still coveted his autonomy. But who would now allow himself small indulges like spending the night at the Barns, or letting Ronan buy him dinner, or accepting dream trinkets with minimal protesting. 

Adam, who was standing at the foot of the ladder, squinting upwards with an amused smile tugging at his lips. Ronan looked down from his perch on the roof, strings of lights coiled around his torso and arms like a multicoloured suit of armour. He scowled to disguise the eruption of butterflies in his gut at the sight of Adam standing on Ronan’s beloved property, in a pair of faded jeans and one of Ronan’s hoodies. The tips of his ears and nose were tinged pink and his hands were stuffed into the pocket of his sweater. He looked so beautiful it made Ronan want to break something. 

“You trying to get hypothermia?” Ronan called down.

Adam rolled his eyes but grinned up at him. “I came straight from the factory.”

It was a flimsy excuse that danced around the fact that Adam didn’t actually own any warm clothes. Ronan bit down the instinct to be angry about it. 

“Well go grab something from the house. If you turn into a Parrish-sicle I'm gonna have to do all this shit myself.” 

“What is all this shit anyway?” Adam gestured to the mountain of lights at the base of the ladder. 

“It’s fucking Christmas, Parrish.” Ronan said, “Now go. And don’t come back until you've got a real fucking jacket on.” 

He heard Adam make his way up the front steps and into the house. Ronan turned his attention back to stringing lights along the trim of the house. It wasn’t hard work because the lights were dreamed and designed to stay in place wherever he put them. He was trying to conjure up the memory of what the house had looked like around Christmas time before his father had been killed. He remembered the feeling of Christmas just fine. It was full of warm hearts and long nights dissolving into song. It was the intoxicating mixture of joy and excitement. It was the crackling of a roaring fire in the living room. It was deep laughter that sparkled like champagne. 

He knew exactly how Christmas was supposed to  _ feel _ , but he could not remember for the life of him how it  _ looked.  _ He’d been agonizing over the decorations for a few days. He knew it was ridiculous but it felt like another monumental loss. He was afraid. He was afraid because Christmas had always been a big affair in the Lynch household. He was afraid because it had been his favourite time of year as a child. He was afraid because he was already losing details. He was already forgetting specifics. He was afraid that this is what his life would be now. Desperately trying to cling to memories and watching them slip through the recesses of his mind, like sand through fingers, never to be captured again. He was afraid of forgetting the sound of his father’s voice or his mother’s favourite song. He was afraid that the only memories he’d be left with would be the horrific images of their mangled bodies. 

Ronan was snapped out of his internal spiraling by the creaking sound of the ladder. He turned in time to see Adam’s head peak over the top of the roof. He was wearing a real fucking jacket, one of Ronan’s old ones that he must have dug out of the back of the closet. Not only that but he was wearing a pair of Matthew’s mittens and a hat with a fluffy white pom pom on top. He looked ridiculous. Ronan grinned.

“Much better, Parrish.”

Adam rolled his eyes, “What do you need me to do?”

Ronan tossed him a string of lights and they set to work. 

It took them hours to get the lights strung up to Ronan’s satisfaction. Adam patiently strung and restrung the lights and didn’t do anything more than quirk a fair eyebrow at Ronan’s neuroticism. By the time they retired to the living room with big mugs of steaming hot chocolate, Ronan was fully grumpy. He tried not to show it too outwardly because he didn’t want Adam to have to deal with all his emotional bullshit after a full day of work followed by a shit load of  _ Christmas decorating _ . He wasn’t even sure if Adam liked Christmas. It would make sense if he didn’t. 

Ronan distracted himself by getting a fire going while Adam flipped the television on and began flicking through channels. When Ronan turned back to the couch Adam was staring at him, Ronan ignored his imploring look and took a seat next to him, pretending to be absorbed in the program playing. It was a vaguely familiar over saturated sitcom with a crackling laugh track.

“Ronan.” Adam said softly, reaching out and running a hand gently over his buzzed head. 

Ronan scowled.

“Ronan.” He said again, pulling Ronan’s chin toward him. 

Adam’s gaze was so tender it made Ronan want to set something on fire. Preferably himself. He sighed heavily and leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as Adam continued stroking his head. The sound of the fire mixed with the comforting ministrations and the soft crackle of the television made it easy to imagine that his life was just as it had always been. Safe, loving and warm. The memory of those emotions filled him like a helium balloon, lovely and colorful but, in the end, hollow. The ballooning feeling rose up from his chest to his throat and folded into a sob. 

Ronan tried to push the feeling back down, but his breath came out shaky and he could feel tears beginning to build behind his eyelids. He wondered if happiness and sadness would ever be able to exist separately in his heart or would he be like this forever? A tangle of emotions that where all at once too bright and too dark, that filled him up and hollowed him out at the same time. 

“Fuck.” He said emphatically, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m so fucking-I just-” He groaned in frustration, “God fucking dammit! Fuck!”

He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d gotten angry but he was. All of his emotions somehow always morphed into anger. They stewed in his guts, churning over one another until something ignited them and then they exploded out of him like lava. 

Adam was still and quiet next to him, waiting. 

Ronan inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. It didn’t really help calm his frazzled mind but it did give him a second to figure out what he wanted to say. This was something he was still learning; communication. He and Adam were both admittedly poor at it, they trusted each others ability to _just_ _ get it _ a little bit too much, which led to more than one full blown fight. Adam knew him on a deeper level than anyone else ever had or ever would. Adam may have understood all his crooked pieces, but that didn't mean he could get away with not ‘using your words, Lynch’.

“It doesn’t look right.” He knew he was being vague but he could find the energy to connect his thoughts into coherent strings of words. 

“The house.” Adam said. When Ronan nodded, he continued. “It doesn’t look right as in, not the way you want it to look or it doesn’t look right as in, not the way you remember it.” 

“Both.” Ronan shrugged. 

Adam was quiet for a moment. “Just because it isn’t the same doesn’t mean it won’t be as good.” He said and pressed a soft kiss to Ronan’s temple.

Ronan wasn’t sure if he was referring to Christmas or just life in general, either way the sentiment was soft in a way that almost hurt. Ronan knew that it would hurt less over time and that he would still be able to live a happy life even without his parents. But that wasn’t quite the issue.

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like. I can’t remember.” It’s as close as he could he get to voicing what he was truly feeling. Adam seemed to understand nonetheless. He sighed a sad sigh and glanced out the window at the gently gliding snowflakes. 

“You’re going to forget things, even if you don’t want to. That doesn't make you a bad son. They’re never going to completely fade. You’ll always have pieces, maybe just not the full thing.”

Ronan sighed deeply. He knew all of this objectively, but it didn’t stop panic from seizing his heart at every missing memory. It didn’t stop him from choking on tears. It didn’t stop him from obsessing over minuscule details. He wasn’t entirely sure why he did, perhaps it was to honour his parents’ legacy. More likely it was a desperate attempt to cling to every remaining piece of his childhood. 

He glanced over at Adam and found that he was already looking at him, his eyes soft with sadness. The sun was beginning to set over the Barns despite it being barely five o’clock, casting a warm glow through the windows and gracing Adam’s face with dappled light. He looked stupidly handsome. 

Ronan decided that he was all at once sick of being sad. He tried to swallow it down and focus on all his reasons to be Not Sad. He wasn’t sure that he was quite ready to shoot for Happy, but he thought that Not Sad was pretty doable. Especially when one of his favorite reasons for being Not Sad was sitting right next to him looking exceptionally gorgeous and decidedly kissable. Adam’s hand was still cupping Ronan’s head so it was easy to bring their lips together in a gentle kiss. A gentle kiss that was easily persuaded into a passionate kiss. 

Ronan let himself get lost in kissing Adam. It wasn’t hard. In fact, it was almost too easy. Adam was warm and comforting. His weight familiar and exhilarating all at once. His lips were slightly chapped as Ronan pulled them between his own. Ronan slipped his hands under the hem of Adam’s shirt and ran his fingers over the knobs of his spine and the dips of his ribs. Adam shifted closer and made a sound in the back of his throat that made Ronan’s blood warm at least ten degrees and scratched lightly at Ronan’s scalp. The sensation sent a shiver through every synapse in his body. 

The problem with kissing Adam was that it only made Ronan want to kiss him more. Like a thirst that only grew with every sip. When Adam was close Ronan wanted him closer. When Adam was holding him, he wanted to hold him tighter. When Adam was kissing him, he wanted to kiss him deeper. Ronan pulled and pulled until Adam was straddling his lap and it was still not close enough. 

Ronan didn’t think he could ever get enough of Adam. 

After a few minutes or hours or years, Adam pulled back to breathe and rested his forehead against Ronan’s. Ronan wanted to protest the need for breathing, he would gladly suffocate if it meant he could die kissing Adam Parrish. But he resisted and let himself enjoy the sensation of Adam’s warm breath fanning across his face, smelling faintly of chocolate. He let himself soak up the feeling of Adam’s fingers tracing patterns along his shoulders. He let himself bask in the feeling of Adam’s erratic heart beating in time with his own where their chests were pressed together. 

Ronan decided that Happy wasn’t too far out of reach after all. 

At that moment Opal clattered into the house looking like a rainbow had just thrown up on her, wearing an oversized orange and blue striped sweater, a red cape and yellow rain boots. She was carrying a rather large rock in one hand and in the other she held a sting of lights up to her mouth where she happily crunched on the bulbs. When she caught sight of Adam, she dropped the rock with a loud thud and shrieked with joy. 

“ADAM!” She launched herself at him, who was still sitting in Ronan’s lap. She collided with Adam’s shoulder and sent the three of them topelling off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. Ronan pretended to be annoyed but it was difficult when Adam was laughing that surprised laugh of his. Opal laughed too, a clear mimic of Adam’s which was unsettling similar and bizarre coming from the mouth of a tiny goat child; which made Adam laugh harder. Ronan laughed and Opal mimicked him too, not as kindly. 

“Pest.” He snarled.

“Pest.” She mimicked again. 

“I’ve already got a raven I don't need a fucking parrot too.” 

“I’ve already got a raven I don't need a fucking parrot too.” 

“Watch your fucking language.”

“Watch your fucking language.”

Adam laughed uproariously. Ronan rolled his eyes. Opal grinned. The three of them stayed on the floor wrapped up in their tiny tentative family and tangled in a half eaten string of lights until Ronan decided that it was dinner time.

He banished Opal to her room until dinner was ready to ensure she didn’t add any of her own ‘ingredients’. Adam pretended to help but he was pretty useless in the kitchen, eventually he resigned to sitting on the counter and kicking at Ronan’s shins every once in a while. Ronan didn’t mind though. In fact, he quite liked the feeling of making food for people (and goat children) he cared about. As he bustled about, clattering more pots and pans than strictly necessary, he couldn’t help the dull ache from thrumming through his ribcage. He couldn’t help but  _ wish… _ for something. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. A lot of things but also nothing at all.

He wished his father could have met Adam. He wished he’d told his parents he was gay. He wished his family wasn’t held together through desperate paranoid sorrow _.  _ He wished he didn't know what Gansey’s dead body looked like. He wished he’d gotten to properly say goodbye to Noah. He wished he could figure out how to disentangle Matthew’s life from his own. He wished he could sleep without dreaming. He wished he could smile without feeling guilty about it. He wished he wasn't so fucked up. He wished he could punch Adam’s father one more time. He wished he lived in a world without magic. He wished that he lived in a world entirely of magic so he wouldn’t feel so alienated. 

He wished this house didn’t feel so fucking empty all the goddamn time. 

Adam kicked at his shins. Ronan finished making the lasagna. Adam cut up Opal’s serving for her. Opal ate her fork instead. Adam washed the dishes and Ronan dried them. The moon shone through the living room windows. Adam did his homework at the dinner table. Ronan helped Opal name the seven new rocks she’d collected that day. Adam read Opal a story before they tucked her. Adam curled against Ronan’s side before drifting off. Life carried on.

A week later it was Christmas Eve and Gansey was on some fancy European holiday with his family, Henry was back in Vancouver visiting his mom, Blue was helping the convent prepare for the winter witching week (something about psychic senses being the strongest during the period of time between Christmas Eve and New Years Eve), Ronan was in the car with his brothers on the way to mass. 

And Adam was alone in his apartment. The thought made Ronan’s heart clench. Despite their many layers of issues and their copious amounts of trauma, Ronan had a family. Gansey had a family, Henry had a family, Blue had a family. And Adam had a drafty apartment with splinters in the floor. He had scars all over his torso and a deaf ear. He had a heart that was afraid to love and eyes that were afraid to cry. 

As Ronan stood in the pew with his brothers, listening to the choir sing O Holy Night, knowing that Adam could hear it too, he sent up an extra litany of prayers for the boy upstairs. Next to him, Matthew sang along reverently, and next to him Declan had his eyes closed and his head dipped in devotion. Ronan glanced upward at the grand arched ceiling covered in intricate paintings of Jesus. There was no light to stream through the stained glass like it did Sunday mornings, seeing as it was midnight, but there were candles displayed on each window sill that cast almost eerie almost cozy flickers across the glass. This was home in a way. The open and airy arches of the church. The ringing harmonies of the choir. The beautiful stained glass windows. The peeling paint on the pillars. 

Ronan supposed that perhaps he had placed too much faith into The Barns. He had been desperate to return not only because it was  _ home _ , but because some foolish part of him had held onto the childish hope that if he could simply return home, his life could resume. His family could be mended. His heart could be whole. 

But, he had returned to the Barns and his life, family and heart had remained broken. Ronan was no stranger to this world’s utter shitiness. He knew that sometimes life just sucked, and that’s all there was. He knew that fucked up stuff happened and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop it. He knew that nothing in his life could return to the way it was. Things were too different. He was too different. But he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, he could make it just as good.

Maybe home wasn't just a farm estate, parents and brothers. Maybe home was also friends. Maybe home was magic. Maybe home was a quest for a king. Maybe home was Monmouth. Maybe home was Foxway. Maybe home was the little apartment above St. Agnes. Maybe home was more than one place. More than one person. More than one feeling. 

After mass let out and people streamed out to their cars calling out good wishes to each other like the Good Catholics they were, Ronan broke off from the crowd and made his way up the stairs on the side of the building. When he reached the landing he hesitated barely a second before knocking obnoxiously loud. Adam opened the door looking like a vision from heaven itself in his oversized crewneck and pair of cotton pyjama pants that were just slightly too short for him, showing off the boyish jut of his ankles. He was very clearly ready for bed, but also very clearly had not been sleeping. It was physically painful for Ronan to restrain himself from swooping through the door frame and kissing him until they were both flushed and breathing heavy. 

“Hi.” Ronan said all casual. 

“Hi.” Adam replied, an amused glint in his eye. 

_ You look devastatingly handsome,  _ he didn’t say.

“Did you know in like the 1930’s there were beauty pageants for who had the prettiest ankles. I think you’d have a good shot, Parrish.” He gestured to his ankles. 

Adam blinked. “That was the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received in my life.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Adam laughed.

“Do you want to come in?” 

“No. I actually just. Um.” He suddenly felt flustered and a bit silly. “I just thought that since you're here now, and I’m here anyways cause of church and shit-”

“Spit it out, Lynch.”

Ronan took a deep breath, “Do you want to come back to the Barns with me tonight?”

Adam blinked, clearly a bit taken aback. 

“I mean you’ll have to put up with Dicklan. But Opal’s been bugging me about when you’re gonna visit and it’s kinda fucking depressing up here so…” He trailed off. 

Ronan knew that he was asking for than just to spend the night with Adam. Adam knew it too. He was offering more than just some quality time with the Lynch family circus. He was offering Adam his home, which was made even more homely by the presence of his brothers. He was offering him a place within the most sacred Lynch traditions. He was offering him a seat at the table that was set by his father and filled by his mother. He was offering him a home. He was offering him a family. 

Maybe his family wasn’t perfect. Scratch that, they were definitely fucked beyond measure. But they still ate dinner together, and gathered around the fire drinking eggnog. They still had Mario Kart tournaments late into the night. They still played Christmas carols on the dreamed up record player. They were still a family, although a bit broken. 

Adam had still not said anything and Ronan began to think that maybe it was too much too soon. It was ridiculous to assume that Adam would even want to be a part of Ronan’s family. Maybe this was where things fell apart. It was always how it went in Ronan’s dreams. He would ask for too much, say too much,  _ be _ too much and Adam would turn away. 

“Forget it I-”

“No.” Adam said.

Although Ronan has been bracing for rejection it still hurt. He felt that one word, blunt and certain, slice through his chest like an arrow. He tried not to show it as he took a step back from the threshold. 

“No, Ronan. That’s not what I meant.” Adam ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I would like to come to the Barns with you.” He said the words carefully, almost shy, like he was afraid the offer would be snatched away if he agreed. 

Ronan exhaled. “Okay, then.”

Adam was still standing in the doorway, looking like he still had something to say. So Ronan waited. 

  
“I just-” He sighed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh fuck off, Parrish. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”

With the matter settled, Adam quickly packed a bag, pulled on his shoes and followed Ronan down the steps to Declan’s car which was idling in the, now substantially more vacant, parking lot. Ronan climbed into the passenger seat and Adam climbed into the back next to Matthew. 

“Oh hey, Adam!” Matthew said cheerily. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Matthew.” Adam replied politely.

Declan did nothing but raise an eyebrow at Ronan, which he blatantly ignored, before reversing out of the parking lot and heading back to the Barns. The drive was relatively quiet. Matthew offered up occasional commentary or conversation, but even he seemed a bit lethargic, the cozy atmosphere of Christmas settling thickly over them all. When they arrived at the Barns, Opal couldn’t seem to decide who she was most excited to see. She, predictably, settled on Adam and clung to his wrists until he picked her up. 

It was late. The kind of late that softened everyone’s edges. The kind of late that felt close and warm, but also wide open. It was the kind of late that covered the night in comfort. The kind of late that made the Barns feel like it was on a planet entirely of its own. It was the kind of late that felt so distinctly of  _ before,  _ that it ached a bit. 

Ronan let himself feel it. 

Despite the hour, no one was quite ready to turn in. Declan cracked out the eggnog, and Ronan, by extension, cracked out the rum. They gathered in the living room around the roaring fire, carols crackling from the record player. It felt like home. With Opal and Matthew sitting cross legged on the floor playing cats cradle. With Declan slumped in the armchair looking nineteen for once. With Adam’s head resting on his shoulder. The warmth of Adam’s side pressed against his was far more intoxicating than the warmth of alcohol settling in his stomach.

Ronan pressed a kiss to the top of Adam’s curly head, Adam’s answering kiss to his cheek was almost immediate. Instinctive. Ronan didn’t even bother trying to fight the smile that spread across his lips. He realized almost abruptly that despite the aching familiarity of the night, despite the stark mother and father shaped holes in the scene, Ronan felt content. 

Maybe this would be his life. Learning and relearning happiness. Maybe that was everyone’s life. Maybe it was growing up. Maybe it was grieving. Maybe it was something else entirely. He didn’t have any of the answers, but for the first time in a while, he didn't even have any questions to ask. He was content to simply  _ be.  _

“Merry Christmas, Ronan.” Adam said softly.

“Merry Christmas, Adam.” 

For the first time in a long time, the house didn’t feel empty. Maybe it wasn’t quite full, but it wasn’t empty, and that counted for something. Maybe there was still sadness seeped into the walls and grief etched into the floorboards, but at least for now, the good outweighed the bad. What more could anyone ask?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! i really hope you liked it maybe even leave kudos if you did:)  
> i love any sort of feedback so please leave a comment if you feel so inclined:)
> 
> merry christmas to all of you who celebrate and if you don't i hope you have a wonderful day regardless.


End file.
